French Fry
by Ariana Lussier
Summary: Liz and Hellboy are out for a quiet conversation when an unwelcome guest shows up and proves that it's not always Hellboy that the BPRD has to worry about in public. Pregnancy story.


French Fry  
by Ariana Lussier

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**Disclaimer:** _Haven't we gone over this a few times? I own nothing here, not even FFN. _

**AN:** _I blame Zaedah for making me wonder about Liz dealing with pregnancy. Take it from someone who's been through that hell and back (twice) - it ain't always as pretty as she writes it. Roy is based on someone I knew in college - yes, he really was that bad.  
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**PS** - _See, I can write something without Nuada in it! Going back to work on Orchid now._

**PPS** - _I'm not obsessed. Honest._

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Liz privately thought Red was insane. First for putting up with her temper, then outing himself - and not so accidentally, all of them - then for looking at her when she was eight months' pregnant and still telling her she was hot. Knowing Red, though, that could have been another of his sly jokes, but it did make her feel better every time she was too aware of waddling instead of walking. Finally, and Liz still couldn't understand why he'd done this, letting Manning talk him into coming back to the Bureau.

She didn't get it. A nice little cottage on the slopes of Ireland sounded ideal to raise the babies, not the underground vault in the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. "What about the backyard, Red?" she'd asked him plaintively. It hadn't been whining.

"Ssh, lemme take care of this, babe," he'd told her, touching her chin with a gentle thumb.

Red may be dense sometimes, but he wasn't stupid. He'd put his arm around Manning's shoulders, the heavy, stone hand resting its full weight on the man's right shoulder, and given Manning a big, friendly grin. Manning had brightened a little and smiled in return, which only confirmed to Liz that the government man wasn't bright enough to know Red's danger signs. Her lover had drawn Manning away for a private chat; Liz had gone to follow, eaten up by curiosity over what exactly about her was being discussed, but Abe stopped her. "Wait, Liz," he'd said. "Strangely enough, I think in this instance, Red will be quite the... diplomat."

She'd given him a disbelieving look and his gills had fluttered uncomfortably. "Diplomat?" she'd asked. "This is Red we're talking about."

"I know," the merman had replied, his hands moving gracefully while he spoke, "I can't really believe I'm saying this either, but when you think about it... Diplomacy really is just the art of conducting negotiations, to gain concessions or compromise. Phrasing one's statements in a polite manner is simply one set of tools for doing so." He'd looked after the two figures, the big red one towering over the smaller human. His gills fluttered again and he blinked. "Then again, it could be argued that the careful application of terror is also a form of diplomacy."

"Abe," Liz groaned.

"Trust me on this, Liz," he'd said. "Trust Red."

And so she had. And Red, beyond all reason, had managed to diplomatically terrify Manning into concessions for their return. First and foremost: he and Liz were to be allowed out whenever they wanted. Secondly, they needed a bigger living area, with space for the kids. Third, they had to have their backyard.

Liz wasn't sure how the Bureau managed it, but construction was underway right now on an arboretum, based on designs acquired from their Berkeley field office. Trees, flowers and stretches of grass that could thrive in artificial light were being cultivated to fill it.

But it still wasn't the same as a sun-warmed lawn. Why did Red even consider coming back? What could the Bureau possibly offer them, or their children, that wouldn't be ten times easier to get and with less paperwork in the private sector?

After the first few months, she'd chafed at the old bindings of the Bureau. Her temper and temperature had been up nearly every day. Red only got more reasonable and affectionate when everyone and everything around her seemed to conspire to piss her off. Perversely, she thought he was doing it just to annoy her.

In those strange times in between fights, when she felt like she was alone and ugly and not worth anyone's attention, she cuddled up to Red's pillow and buried her face in his scent. Her temper was getting worse and worse with each passing day, and she could only cry her gratitude into that pillow that Red loved her enough to endure every second of that temper. He'd walked in while she was sobbing like this, taken one look at her, then grinned and said, "Get dressed, babe, we're going out!"

She'd looked up at him, with bloodshot eyes and a swollen nose - supermodels could cry and still look pretty; she couldn't. "_Out _out?" she'd asked.

"Yeah, sure. What am I gonna do, keep an angel locked away from the world?" He'd taken her hand and coaxed her up. "Just a short outing, Liz. We'll get some Chinese food or something at the mall."

Out in public. She shook her head violently. "No, not with people around. They stare at me!"

He laughed, "Not with me around, babe."

The logic trap snapped shut and she'd gone with him. Staying indoors was driving her crazy anyway. But the mall? Even during the few hours before it closed on a weekday, there were still people there. People who stared, pointed and muttered to each other. It was impossible, but they were doing it anyway. Kind of like an average day at the office, with less firepower.

The food court of the mall was bordered on all sides by fast-food outlets and cheap restaurants. Liz looked around, trying to decide what to get when she wanted spicy, one twin seemed to want sandwiches and the other one was kicking her kidneys for ice cream. The other people in the food court stared at them as they walked past, but thanks to Red's constant publicity, or the armed BPRD agents with them, nobody made much of a fuss. "What do you feel like having?" Red asked her. "Order whatever you want, even if it's just for taste; I'll finish whatever you don't."

God, she loved him. "Turkey sandwich," she said promptly. "And a mushroom calzone. And egg rolls - Oh! with duck sauce!! - and a cinnamon pretzel..."

He guided her to a table while she ticked off every craving in her head, nodding with each one. "Sure thing," he said, looking at the two agents. "Hey guys, you got all that, right?"

Agents Mudd and Silver looked stunned. "What?" they'd said in unison.

"You heard the lady," Red had said. "Are you gonna be the one to tell her no? Cause that bothers her, and when she gets bothered, I get really really cranky."

Silver was more of a veteran of Red's strange sense of humor than Mudd and he'd sighed with the beginnings of a grin. Mudd had blinked, trying to rally his thoughts, "Um, that's not part of our orders, sir..."

The other agent had clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, it is," he'd said, giving Red a wink. "We're supposed to safeguard both of them, divert unwanted attention, and keep the public safe at the same time. The public will be a lot safer if we get Liz her food right now."

It was funny, but still felt like a comment about her size. Liz tried to smile and was happy that the two left quickly so that she didn't have to pretend any more. She looked around, seeing all the surreptitious looks from the other customers and cringed. "Red, I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Whaddaya talking about?" he asked. "It's a great idea! C'mon, sit down and we'll just talk like regular folks over dinner."

"But all of them-"

"Screw them," Red told her. "Tonight's just for us. And look, we have waiters to bring us whatever you want, whenever you want. Let's just enjoy being normal right now, okay?"

She was still troubled, but the look on his face was so open and hopeful... Liz sat down in the chair he pulled out for her. It was a heavy, steel chair with a flat metal seat. Despite a discreet butt-molding, it was going to get uncomfortable in a very short while.

Mudd came back first with sandwiches, the turkey Liz had wanted, and three all-meat feasts for Red. "I didn't know what you wanted for toppings, Agent Sherman," he'd said, "so I got everything."

"That's fine," she said, opening the sandwich to pick out the bell peppers. Red was halfway through his first sandwich.

Mudd left them and went over to the Sbarro's for the calzone. Silver sidestepped the other agent, his hands full of a tray loaded with white cartons. "Mandarin chicken, barbecue pork and beef with broccoli," he said as he set the tray down. "And they'd just made fresh duck sauce for your eggrolls, Liz."

"Thanks, Silver," she said, smiling faintly up at him.

"Anytime," he'd grinned back; she wondered briefly if he had a girlfriend. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "Anything you want from the pretzel stand while I'm there?" he asked Red.

"Yeah," Red replied, the word muffled by a mouthful of mandarin chicken. "Gimme one of everything they got."

Silver nodded good-naturedly and left them alone. Liz sighed, trying not to look around at all the people staring at them. No, staring at the pregnant woman who was hugely bloated and the massive pile of food that was taking up the table next to them. Compared to that, a six-foot demon with bright red skin and a tail was small potatoes. She plucked a dill pickle off her sandwich and swirled it in the duck sauce. "What're we going to name her?" she asked, beginning with a topic that was sure to be less volatile than most.

"Mmm..." he said, finishing his second sandwich. "I dunno. I'm kinda partial to Elizabeth myself."

"We can't name her that," she said. "Liz Junior? It doesn't sound right."

"Abrahama, then," he said. "You know Abe'd be a great godfather."

"No, not that either. I was thinking maybe Jane."

"Yuck."

They suggested names back and forth for their daughter. Their son's name, Trevor, had been the easiest decision for both of them, but finding a good girl's name was a lot harder. Mudd and Silver brought a pile of soft pretzels, pizza and other italian foods. Red sent them right back out for more. Liz's cravings were more or less satisfied, but with the agents gone, they had privacy in the middle of the food court. She smiled, dipping another pickle into the duck sauce. "I know it's cliche and all, but I think she should have a name that kinda goes with her broth-"

"Hey, you're Hellboy, aren't you?" a nasally voice cut her off in mid-sentence. She and Red looked up to see a scruffy, semi-Caucasian man with long dreadlocks and tattered clothes approach their table. He dropped down into a chair next to Liz, and she felt her temper flare at the intrusion.

"Uh, yeah..." Red replied, reaching one hand over to affectionately squeeze hers.

"Oh man, this is so cool!" the man enthused. "I'm Roy," he said, reaching a hand over their food towards Red.

Her lover looked a bit unsettled as he shook it. A piece of lint dropped off the stranger's sleeve and into Liz's duck sauce. She clenched her teeth and pushed it away. "Uh, well, hi Roy," Red told him. "We're kinda having dinner here-"

"Yeah, I can tell. Holy cow, you guys sure eat a lot! The Star wasn't making that part up, that's for damn sure." His voice was roughened, from the smell of his clothes, by long years of smoking many different things. His eyes had that slightly vacant, slightly glassy look of someone who's done their share of drugs. And everyone else's share as well. _Permafried_, Liz thought, wrestling down the welling anger. _About to be permabaked._

"Red..." Liz said warningly.

He nodded at her and turned back to Roy. "Look, um, it's nice to meet you, Roy, but like I said we were having dinner here-"

Roy scratched at his dreadlocks, then a look of surprise crossed his pimply face. He pulled out a french fry, "Whoa, dude! How long has that been there?" He dipped it into the duck sauce and popped it in his mouth.

Liz almost threw up all over him. Even Red winced. She looked for the other agents and saw both were stuck in long lines; Silver at the Baskin-Robbins and Mudd at the Burger King. She gave Red another sharp look, _Do something about this jerk or I will._ Red nodded; he was on it.

"Listen, Roy, I appreciate you taking the time to come over and say hi, but we were-"

"Oh, hey, am I interrupting something?"

God, he was dense! Red looked relieved that it seemed to finally sink in through the dreadlocks and nodded. "Yes, we're having a private conversation here."

"Oh, cool. So, dude, hey, man, I wanted to talk to you about this secret government thing."

Red looked confused, "What secret government thing?"

Her temperature kicked up a notch, leaving a toasted thumbprint on her turkey sandwich. Liz stared at her lover, refusing to look at Roy. Did he have to encourage the retard? His brimstone eyes caught the look and he nodded again and squeezed her hand. He looked guilty; Red was big and tough and occasional sarcastic as hell, but he didn't have it in him to be truly mean to lower life forms.

"That whole secret agency thing!" Roy mimed guns with his hands, "Bang-bang, fighting monsters and all that. There ain't no monsters, right? It's all just a way to get taxpayers to fund Area 51. People don't realize this, but lots of tax money goes nowhere, but it ain't going nowhere, it's going somewhere, we just don't know where." He shook his head and flakes of dandruff drifted onto Liz's sleeve. A shimmer washed over them and turned the flakes to ash. "It's so cool to talk to you about this, man, 'cause I feel like you really understand me, 'course you are on the inside of all that and everything, but you're not a G-man, so it's cool, right? I keep trying to talk to people and they just don't seem to want me around."

"Ya think?" Liz growled.

"I mean, it's weird that people are so rude to me, you know? Even this being Jersey and all. I mean, like, I didn't do nothin' to anyone, but I saw a dude I know the other day, Matt, and went to go talk to him and he, like, crossed the street before I could get to him."

"Was there a lot of traffic?" Liz asked.

"Uh, yeah, sort of."

"Did you follow him?"

"No."

"You should have," she said. By now, she was staring at the fork that came with the chinese food and wondering what velocity would be needed to drive the plastic tines through the frontal plate of his skull.

Roy stared at Liz; somewhere in the mountain range of dead brain cells, the faint realization began to emerge that she was being hostile. "Uh... yeah, well, if he hates me that much, I'm not gonna, like, go barge in on his space or nothin'."

Red squeezed her hand again; he saw her staring at the fork and realized what his pregnant love was likely thinking. He stepped in to head off an imminent homicide. "Roy, I don't know how to express this delicately, but I'm gonna try. You gotta understand that sometimes people just want their privacy. There's no need to take it personally, just respect it."

"I do, man, I really do," Roy insisted. "I mean, you're not an asshole to me or nothin' - in fact, you're actually kinda nice..."

Liz made a mental note to teach Red the virtue of kicking retarded puppies.

"...and I appreciate it and everything. It makes me wanna help you out and everyone else too."

"You can start by leaving," Liz said through her teeth. The fork turned soft and bent in her fingers.

"Roy," Red said, covering the melting plastic with his hand. "I'd love to keep talking with you about this, but Liz and I were in the middle of a conversation when you sat down, so could you, uh..." he tossed his head a little to the side, indicating that Roy should, for his own safety, leave.

Roy's face lit up in understanding. Finally! "Oh!" he said, "Ok, sure. Go ahead." Then he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms.

"Roy," Liz tried to be diplomatic; she was not going to be out-niced by Red, "it's a private conversation." The plastic fork was melted, but there was still Red's to use.

"Yeah, I get it," Roy said. "Go ahead, babe, I'll just wait."

_Babe?!_ "No, you won't just wait," Liz growled as sparks danced around her fingertips. "You'll just leave."

"Liz," Red whispered, "calm down. Roy," he raised his voice to talk to the other man, "she's not in the best mood right now."

Roy threw his hands up in the air in frustration, "See, man, this is what I mean. People just being nasty to me and won't be my friend. And here, now she's being bitchy and all I'm doing is sitting here talking. I'm trying to help you out, man!"

"Help us how?" Red asked, his features slack with confusion.

"I'm trying to help you understand why you guys are rude to me so you can get over your issues."

_Screw the fork!_

Liz got up abruptly, bracing one hand on the back of her chair. As soon as she was on her feet, she yanked the chair up, bringing it up to one shoulder like it was a samurai sword and she was the legendary Miyamoto Musashi. "You want to help us, Roy?" she said, her voice poisonously sweet. "Then stand still while I shove this chair up your ass!"

The man seemed to teleport himself backwards a few feet, scrambling away from her, "What the hell?!"

Right then, Liz was suddenly aware of the eyes of everyone in the food court upon them. Her teeth ground together as flames burst out of her hands and licked along the steel frame of the chair. A thick blanket of silence descended, broken only by the faint clicks of Mudd and Silver's guns as the two agents drew on the situation. Even Red seemed frozen with shock.

"Ma'am," came a gentle voice. "Is there a problem here?"

Liz turned her head to see a plump mall security guard - the bravest security guard in the world - approach her with a calm smile on his face. His thumbs were hooked into his Sam Browne belt, from which hung only a flashlight and a set of handcuffs. The name tag above his left breast pocket read "Sheldon P."

"Yes," Liz said tightly. "He's. Harrassing. Us."

"Like hell, man," Roy burst out. "I'm just sitting here talking to them and suddenly she jumps up and freaks out!"

Sheldon looked at Roy, then he turned those soft gray eyes on Liz. Then he looked back at Roy. "Sir, I think you should leave now."

"What did I do?" he protested. "I didn't do nothing wrong! She's the one going all PMS here!"

"I'm pregnant, you moron!" Liz snapped.

Sheldon held a placating hand out to Liz, his attention still on Roy. "Sir, if you don't leave. I'm going to have to remove you."

Roy pouted. "Fine. Whatever." He turned and stalked away, towards the south end of the food court.

The flames drew back into her hands, and Liz took a deep breath, setting the chair back down. She didn't notice its weight while her anger had flared, but once that irritating man was gone, it was really heavy... "Thank you, officer."

"Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked her, nothing more than genuine concern on his face. She nodded, then saw Roy coming back. Liz scowled and snatched up the chair again, her eyes blazing as flames once more leapt into being around her hands.

"Whoa, wait!" Roy yelped, scurrying past her to get to the north door. "My car's parked over here!"

Red stood up, patting Sheldon on the shoulder gratefully. "Thanks, pal, we'll be okay." He took the chair from Liz and set it back down, then put an arm around her waist and hugged her gently. "C'mon, babe, let's go on home."


End file.
